


Afterthought

by Leamas



Series: Nothing, or a Silhouette [2]
Category: The Alienist (TV)
Genre: Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 19:28:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14900573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leamas/pseuds/Leamas
Summary: So despite having a memory loaded with what had happened, he found it hard to actually remember anything. And that was as difficult as drawing back on what remembered of Japheth himself, past his reactions to what had been done to him. This was that that Dr Kreizler had asked him about.





	Afterthought

**Author's Note:**

> Originally this was a scene in _Nothing, or a Silhouette_ , but when I edited it I didn't think it fit. Still, I liked it, so it gets posted on its own.

Dr Kreizler’s manner came across as curious but not hawkish; not disinterested in Joseph but not obsessive. The balance must have been a difficult one to strike and, Joseph found, not easy to respond to.

After being told that Dr Kreizler had been at the reservoir as well, Joseph thought he should remember him, but in truth he could remember very little after being choked unconscious, except for seeing John and not believing that it was him, but deciding to accept that nonetheless. He felt that he remembered everything and nothing about what happened; certain memories of the ordeal came back so clearly that they were painful to look at, like stepping outside onto a bright street after hours spent hiding. It was also nothing like that. All of these memories existed alone. It was happening, and then it was over, but it felt like it was happening forever. What was the difference between the first time he was fed and the second?—he couldn’t even remember if he even had fed him more than once. But he remembered how gentle his touch was when the man, whose name Joseph now knew was Japheth, ran his hand over Josephs’ face; and he remembered at first thinking about those hands killing that boy who he’d seen dead and bleeding, his friend who was now a body; but there came a point when every time that he pulled off Joseph’s shirt to clean him, he thought of the cat instead of the boy, the crunch when it hit the wall instead of those hands touching someone else’s skin.

So despite having a memory loaded with what had happened, he found it hard to actually remember anything. And that was as difficult as drawing back on what remembered of Japheth himself, past his reactions to what had been done to him. This was that that Dr Kreizler had wanted to ask him about.

After considering this for a time (John put the question forward, on Dr Kreizler’s behalf, as if he’d be interested in this, as a matter of research), and waiting to see if John would ask him again, or force him to talk about it anyway, he finally agreed.

“There is no right answer,” Dr Kreizler insisted. “I’m interested in your impression of this man—what you remember, whatever that is.”

“What’s it matter what I remember, if it isn’t right?” Joseph asked.

Dr Kreizler thought before speaking, and when he answered it was deliberate. “How he made you feel is just as important as what he did.”

“Why is how I feel important?”

“For him it was more than just about killing,” Dr Kreizler said. “He wanted to inflict a certain type of pain on his victims, and when it was possible, on their families. If it were just about killing—”

“He’d have just done it,” Joseph interrupted, and Dr Kreizler nodded.

Joseph wasn’t a stranger to the idea that there were men out there who just wanted something, but usually it was more simple than this. It was easier for them to hurt you or beat you or (if you weren’t careful) to just kill you, if the only people who cared about you were people like yourself, than it was for this kind of person to hurt their own wives or children, or other people who mattered.

And for most people, that was enough, but this time—

“You’re saying there’s a bigger reason for why he did this, than just because he wanted to.”

“What he did to you,” again said carefully, “tells us something about what he wanted, in doing this.”

Just when Joseph thought that he was starting to wrap his head around what Dr Kreizler was saying, it would slip through his hands again, like catching air, because he’d start to think about being pinned to the ground by his throat, this man—not Japheth, because the crispness of the name didn’t fit with how unclear the memory felt—leaning over him tenderly as he choked Joseph unconscious, with panic clawing from the inside of his chest all while Joseph couldn’t move; and he would think of being held so gently, closing his eyes and shaking and only feeling how he was being moved, for days.

“He said that he loved me,” Joseph said.

“When did he say this?”

“Whenever he was paying attention to me,” Joseph said, then added, “Most of the time he was doing something else. I don’t know. There was a fire that he was looking after, and sometimes he’d leave. I don’t know what he was doing. But when he was with me he told me he loved me.”

Dr Kreizler nodded, paused. Waited. “There wasn’t really a specific time or anything,” Joseph added. “It didn’t matter what he was doing.”

“’What he was doing’?” Dr Kreizler repeated.

“Yeah,” Joseph said, and waited to see what Dr Kreizler would say to that. If he’d push, wanting more details, because people did that sometimes—they’d want to know, and say that it was important to know, but really it was only that they wanted to know. Just the same as how some of the men Joseph met wanted to know about the other men, who were worse than them.

Dr Kreizler didn’t ask, though. “He said he loved you. Would he threaten you when he’d say this?”

“He didn’t threaten me,” Joseph said. “He did what he wanted, except when he took me to the reservoir.” But he hadn’t needed to threaten Joseph, because Joseph had stayed as quiet as he could through all of it, and when he stopped being quiet Japheth had put a hand over his mouth and nose and held him there while he scratched and struggled, and then he remembered nothing.


End file.
